I Saw Pale Kings And

I Wish You Could Invent Some Means To Make Me At All Happy Without You. Every Hour I Am More And More Concentrated In You; Everything Else Tastes Like Chaff In My Mouth.

All Writing Is A Form Of Prayer.

If Something Is Not Beautiful, It Is Probably Not True.

I Almost Wish We Were Butterflies And Liv'd But Three Summer Days - Three Such Days With You I Could Fill With More Delight Than Fifty Common Years Could Ever Contain.

Thou, Silent Form, Dost Tease Us Out Of Thought As Doth Eternity.